Nobody Cares
by Damn the Torpedoes
Summary: Not everyone likes dwarves, as we know. But now we know it even more. I don't say it's good anymore, though at some point I will update it, when I'm hit with inspiration. Please review! Flames accepted but not appreciated.
1. Default Chapter

Hey'all! I've been going through a real creative spurge (is that actually a word?) which involves painting, drawing, writing poems etc etc, and then just now this story came to me! Actually, that's a lie. I've been making it up all day but WHO CARES!?!?!  
  
Nothing belongs to me, apart from the OC you'll find in this chapter- though I don't like him at all so take him! TAKE HIM AWAY!!!!!  
  
Special thanks to Gimli der Zwerg. my wonderful beta-reader, although I suffered a lot of tantrums about what I did to 'her' Gims!  
  
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Gimli cursed to himself as he hurried along the crowded streets of Minas Tirith. He was late. He was meant to meet Aragorn, Legolas and Arwen in the palace gardens, because Aragorn had recieved a letter and parcel from the Shire that morning. Gimli had only just been informed of this whilst he was visiting his newly-acquired pony, Sturla, a stocky grey fellow with a thick forelock that covered his eyes, hairy legs and a long tail. Legolas had described him as ungainly, solid and stupid, but Gimli maintained that he was trustworthy, handsome and very intelligent. He appeared to be the only being who maintained this opinion however.  
  
The crowds became unbearable and Gimli began to feel slightly claustrophobic, and, blessing his stature, ducked through the moving forest of legs to wait under an overhanging balcony of a shop until there was room to comfortably make his way. His friends would have to wait.  
  
"Master *Dwarf*?" a dark shadow cast itself over Gimli as he waited patiently, humming 'The Road Goes Ever On and On' under his breath as the bustling men and women swarmed past. Whoever that voice belonged to put a definite sneer onto the word 'Dwarf'.  
  
Gimli raised his eyes, and found himself nose to belt with a very large, bulk of a man. He was dressed all in black, with a thick velvet cloak that seemed to ripple threateningly against the floor, emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor. His ruddy face was unshaven, with small piggy eyes that glared dangerously at the Dwarf.  
  
"Now," the man stated softly, so Gimli only just caught the words, "Our new Queen is an Elf, as well as the Lord Legolas, and we know many wonderous stories about their kin, but no such stories have I heard about *your* kind, Dwarf!" he spat on the ground by Gimli's feet.  
  
Gimli felt bewildered. What was this mad-man raving about? He had never seen him before in his life, and he began to feel uncomfortable. Instinctively, he put up the mental shield from any feelings of insecurity and stared up at the man.  
  
"I can assure you that I do not know what you are talking about," he spoke simply, but his words seemed to enrage the man.  
  
"Now listen," he snarled, bending down to Gimli's eye-level, "You may fool others that you have a civil tongue in your head, but you don't fool me! I know that your kind are ferocious, savage, uncouth murderers!"  
  
Gimli took a step back, his mouth agape, "What!?"  
  
The man reached out, swift as you like, and grasped Gimli's arm in a grip like iron. Gimli struggled against the large hand and managed to pull free. The man had underestimated the strength of the Dwarf. But the man was a quick learner and a skilled warrior, and swift as any Elf he grasped Gimli's arm, tighter this time, and bent it behind Gimli's back, despite all his valient attempts to free himself, the arm broke with a sickening, yet satisfying, crack.  
  
With a cry of pain, Gimli struggled even more and the man released his arm. With his good hand, Gimli refelxively swung out but found his thick fist blocked my a shovel-like hand. Then the man's own fist connected hard with the side of Gimli's face. The Dwarf saw stars, his eye-sight fading into blackness, but penetrated by small cracks of light.  
  
Using his victims momentary lapse, the attacker punched Gimli again, this time in the chest. Gimli gasped with pain and stumbled, attempting in vain to escape, but the man had closed in on him, like a cat with a mouse. Gimli was completely blocked from daylight. His head swam, he couldn't think clearly, the world seemed to spin around him.  
  
The attacker was merciless and ruthless, driven by madness. He was insane! His fist and hob-nailed boot smashed against Gimli's tender, bruised chest and stomach. Instinctively, the Dwarf curled up as small as possible in an attempt to make himself as small a target as possible.  
  
Eventually, the small, stocky body went limp, and the burly man took Gimli by his long red hair, lifted his head from the ground and, seeing no sign of life, let it drop, and walked off into the crowds as though nothing had happened.  
  
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So? Whaddya think? I know I've been using ideas from other stories but this is different! I PROMISE!!!! In a few chapters this will completely turn around! This isn't the beginning of teh main plot, this is a little side- story I put in to keep the story going longer. I made this up in maths, which is torture so that's probably where it came from.  
  
No flames if you please! Review I BEG!!!! 


	2. Discovery

Thanks 4 all the wonderful reviews! *Silly insane grin* and I've kinda only got the main outline of this story so I dunno WHERE it'll take! Maybe over the rainbow, past the stars... beyond the moon.... sorry. Wizard of Oz is on in the next room. SHUT IT OFF!!!!  
  
And you'll see how the guy managed to hurt Gimli like he did in later chapters, okay? I wondered a bit about that until I freaked my whole french class out by shouting 'I know!!' in the middle of a revision section. ^^;  
  
Nothing belongs to me, apart from the OC you'll find- though I don't like him at all so take him! TAKE HIM AWAY!!!!!  
  
Special thanks to Gimli der Zwerg. my wonderful beta-reader, although I suffered a lot of tantrums about what I did to 'her' Gims! So apologies to Zwerg!  
  
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"Valar! Gimli!"  
  
Legolas had been searching for his friend, intent on snapping at him for being late. But, as time wore on and there was no sign of the Dwarf, Legolas had become quite worried. Now, he found Gimli lying, unconscious, underneath a large canopy shielding the front of a cobblers.  
  
Legolas hurried towards the figure and bent down to him. Gently, he brushed strands of dark red hair back from Gimli's face and barely suppressed a gasp. The side of the Dwarf's face was bruised and an ugly gash crowned his forehead. Gingerly, the Elf turned the unconscious Dwarf onto his back, and winced when he noticed the odd angle Gimli's arm was bent at.  
  
Anger began to boil, but Legolas pushed it down, fear and concern taking over for the moment. Who had done this to his friend?! How *dare* they!? But right now, Gimli's health was on top of Legolas's list.  
  
"Gimli? Gimli!" Legolas shook him as roughly as he dared, which wasn't very roughly, and called his name earnestly. Gimli stirred slightly, and gave a low moan. "Gimli!"  
  
The first thing the Dwarf became aware of was pain. Pain in his arm, in his chest, and is head, which was pounding like the hooves of the Rohirrim's horses. The next thing he was aware of was a voice. The voice was like music, gentle and silvery, but Gimli was in no state to appreciate it. It suddenly clicked in a distant part of his brain that the voice was calling his name.  
  
"Gimli...? Gimli? Gimli!"  
  
Gimli wearily forced his eyes to open, and through the dark mist that appeared to have settled, he percieved the fair face of Legolas above him.  
  
"Urgh... aren't you going to apologise for waking me up?" he muttered, forcing himself into a sitting position, ignoring the screams and complaints of his muscles and the broken bones in his left arm.  
  
"Did I wake you?" Legolas asked sarccily, raising an eyebrow. But Gimli saw the worry and fear deep in the Elf's fathomless eyes, and gave in. He could not put forward a comeback.  
  
"No. I needed to wake up anyway. There was someone nearby shouting 'Gimli!'"  
  
Legolas gave a weak smile, "I don't know what happened," he said seriously, "And I don't want to know. Yet. Right now we have to get you to the Houses of Healing. Think you that you have strength enough?"  
  
Gimli cocked his head, then valiantly attempted one of his lop-sided grins, though his head swam, and his arm was gradually losing all feeling whilst the pain of his face and head as well as his bruised stomach and chest was rapidly increasing. Briefly it occured to him to ask his friend why it had become misty all of a sudden, but instinct told him this was not natural mist, and could not be percieved by any other than he.  
  
"Aye, I believe I can walk." Gimli tried to get up, succeeded but staggered as dizziness hit him when he stood up to his full height. Legolas's swift arm reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulder allowed him to remain on his feet. "I think I may need some help, though," he added grudgingly, annoyed at his lack of strength. But that annoyance was quickly washed away in another wave of pain.  
  
Legolas pushed down yet another flash of anger and fear in an attempt to remain calm, at least until Gimli was safe in the Houses of Healing. He kept a firm grip on the Dwarf's shoulder, and walked slowly so that he could keep up. The Dwarf stumbled a few times, and finally stopped dead with an exhausted sigh.  
  
"I... I can go no further, Legolas... it is so misty...."  
  
Panic gripped Legolas again. This was not right! Cold fear gripped his heart again. This reminded Legolas so vividly of when dear Merry had been held victim of the Black Breath. Surely the same illness could not have caught Gimli also? But no, he was being irrational. The Nazgul had been wiped out with Sauron's defeat, and only they could cause that terrible disease.  
  
Couldn't they?  
  
Legolas took Gimli's hand, and tugged on it haplessly, hoping to rouse some sort of reaction from the Dwarf, but to no avail. "You cannot halt, Gimli! We are near, I promise. Just a little further and we will be there."  
  
The two had left the crowded roads of the city and were making their way up a cobbled road that lead to the Houses of Healing, and, further, to the Palace gardens. Legolas gave a mental sigh of relief when he saw Aragrorn jogging up the street toward them.  
  
"Legolas! Gimli! There you are, we have been waiting for-" the King was silenced by a glance from Legolas, who then gestured is head towards Gimli, who did not even lift his tired gaze. The question died on Aragorn's lips when he saw the state of the Dwarf.  
  
"Bring him to the Houses," he instructed Legolas, his voice suddenly sharp, yet gentle also, "what happened?"  
  
"I know not," Legolas answered wearily, "I did not think it wise to plague him with questions. He was unconscious when I found him."  
  
Aragorn nodded, "Make haste as well as you may, my friend," he told the Elf, "And fear not, Gimli will be alright, or Pippin will be sober on his birthday."  
  
Legolas could not help but laugh at that, no matter how desperate and short it was. His heart was suddenly lightened as he watched his friend make his way swiftly towards the Houses of Healing.  
  
"Come, Gimli," Legolas said gently, "Just a little further, and then you may rest."  
  
The Dwarf gave no answer, but allowed himself to be lead forwards by the Elf.  
  
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Boo-yah! I finished chapter two! I hope you liked, and sorry it's a bit short. I know not much is happening, but much will happen I promise. Please allow for the fact that this is my first 'real' story and I'm still learning- constructive critisism is very much appreciated, though flames will be used to light the fireworks. Thanks for reading and please leave a review on the way out! ~Damn the Torpedoes~ 


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